Splinter
by clair beaubien
Summary: Dean gets a splinter in an inconvenient location. Sometimes a little brother's gotta do what a little brother's gotta do.


A/N: SPN stories seem to be coming back little by little into my brain; in tiny bits and easy stories.

If anyone is interested, I posted a new story last week to my blog www(dot)maurlougen(dot)wordpress(dot)com and I also put it on my website www(dot)maureenlougen(dot)com

Any new stories I write will be posted there.

* * *

_Sometimes, a little brother's gotta do what a little brother's gotta do. _

In the great slide, down the bannister of life, sometimes the splinters point in the wrong direction.

_Literally. _

"Dean?"

"No."

"But –"

"NO."

"I'm just saying –"

"Step away from the door."

Sam sighed and moved away from the bathroom door. They'd taken out a ghost in a decrepit old abandoned house, but not before it'd dragged Dean by the feet across the decrepit, old, rotting wood floor which resulted in a splinter in –

"_Farther_ away from the door."

"I was just gonna say, hot water, putting hot water on the – _area_ – ought to help draw the splinter out."

"I'm doing that, genius."

"Black salve?"

"Takes too long. And you're still too close to the door."

"It's not that big of a room, Dean. Where do you want me to go?"

"Outside. Go to a bar. Go to a movie. Get laid. Whatever. Just leave me to do this in peace, will you?"

Sam sat on his bed and tried to think of some other way to help Dean.

"What about that little mirror we have? Would using that help?"

"Only if I want to have to blind myself right after."

"I thought that was your _good side._" Sam snarked him.

"Haven't you left yet?"

"I want to help." Sam said, realizing a half second too late what he'd said and what it meant in this situation. From behind the bathroom door, he heard Dean give a sharp laugh of surprise.

"You really want to be only two and half inches worth of tweezers away from my _good side_?"

"No, I don't want to." Sam snapped, but then he couldn't help thinking of his life, his recent and sort-of-recent life; two violent, foul, filthy withdrawals, ten days in a soul-induced coma, paralyzing flashbacks, the crippling mess of his wall coming down, his lacerated hand, his crowbar-concussed skull, his life-sucking hallucinations. What had Dean done to get him through those times? More things than Sam would ever know. What he did know was - what _wouldn't_ Dean do?

"I don't want to." Sam said again. _"But I will if you need me to._"

There was a pause, a definite pause from inside the bathroom and Sam steeled himself for the worst.

_Sometimes a little brother's gotta do what a little brother's gotta do._

But Dean cleared his throat and called out,

"No, it's out. I got it out. I'm just gonna – all right, never mind what I'm doing next. It's done."

"Okay. Good."

After that, it sounded like Dean was taking a shower, and when he came out, Sam met him at the bathroom door holding a metal bowl of foul smelling liquid.

"What is that?"

"Boiling water and bleach. For the tweezers."

Dean rolled his eyes but reached back into the bathroom to snag the tweezers from the sink. He set them into the bowl.

"Now wash your hands again."

That got Sam an even bigger eye roll but Dean dutifully went back into the bathroom and washed his hands.

"Happy now, Princess?"

"Ecstatic."

At least, he was, until he saw that Dean had left the first aid kit out on the bathroom sink.

"You gonna put that away?"

"Hey, I'm injured." Dean said.

"All right. Fine." Sam huffed.

_Sometimes a little brother's gotta do what a little brother's gotta do._

He set his bowl of boiling tweezers down to go pack up the first aid kit and put it back in the car. It was mostly all packed up already, just the surgical tape was out. He tucked that back into the canvas bag and carried it out to put it in the trunk of the car. But he stopped because Dean was giving him much too much a smart-ass look.

"What?"

"Nothing." Dean said, shrugging a shoulder and shaking his head. Sam was nearly out the door when Dean went on, "Just – I didn't get the splinter out with the tweezers…I used the tape."

Sam stopped and took a deep breath. He counted to ten. And then he counted to twenty. And then he said,

"That box of donuts we had yesterday? When you weren't looking, I _licked_ each and every one of them."

Dean looked a little green, and Sam gave a little smile.

_Sometimes a little brother's gotta do what a little brother's gotta do._

The end.


End file.
